


Lose Yourself

by Pouf



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Charley/Piper is a chimp idc what canon says B), F/M, Gang Rape, cause they're a gang haha, epic porns start on chapter 2, geddit?, jk it's dubcon, kinda yucky if you don't like rolling around with deformed ink creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouf/pseuds/Pouf
Summary: Getting lost in an old defunct animation workshop probably wasn't the best idea.
Relationships: Fisher (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader, Piper (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader, Reader - Relationship, Striker (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Monkey time

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry lmao I have no idea how to write a story let alone a funky porn. I've been kinda having this fantasy lately and decided to type it out.

She was lost.

This place was a fucking mess, and oh-so yellow. One turn always leads to both familiar and unfamiliar paths. Familiar in the sense that everything was made of wood and _yellow_ but unfamiliar because she wasn’t five and knew the difference between her downs and ups and had a sense of goddamn direction when she needed it. She knew this poster of “Little Devil Darlin’” was different than the last poster of the same title. Beige-yellow colored *everything* had begun to give her stress-related tunnel vision. It’s amazing how infuriating this color had become to the point where she’d take a breather every hour to gaze deeply at her dirty purple turtleneck sweater, occasionally pulling the long neck over her head to drown in its purple hue. Every hour she felt could have been any amount of time, seeing how her phone chirped its last beep when she slapped it into an ink filled _something_ out of fear days ago; or what felt like days. Her already fogged contact lenses had begun to make her eyes feel glassy and out of habit she would roll them up and down with her unstained finger to avoid them sticking. Times like these she wished she’d gotten Lasik.

Stepping into another hallway, she squinted up at another Little Devil Darlin’s poster and flung her axe into it.

This royally _sucked dick_. Her back was leaned against the wall and she felt the old wood prick through her sweater as she slid down to crouching level. One palm above her brows to keep her head afloat while another fished out a stick of gum from the ink ruined pouch. Keys and tampons were completely drenched, but the bright blue mint flavored gum found in the tiny pocket near the opening.

She had been chewing on gum to keep her sane and sticking them underneath anything that had an underneath whenever the gum started disengaging into mushy pieces in her mouth to vent out her frustrations with this place in the most mynute of ways. Just stick a piece of gum under the chair, under the table, under the desk, she even stuck one under a cardboard cutout when the daunting feeling of them following her started to settle in. Her hypothesis had been confirmed when once she had done that and looked away for a moment, she looked back to see a smear of bright blue trailed into a particular direction with the cutout nowhere to be seen only to walk right into it to see a tiny blue stain underneath.

Feeling the mint flavor wash over her, one breath was sucked in.

Then exhaled.

Inhale, chew.

Another exhale.

Examining her surroundings and trailing off at a slow pace, she found that something finally looked promising. A hallway; who would have guessed, but a hallway that looked different. There was a fog that came in through cracks of rubble to an unusable walkway to her right, but next to it looked like a path to a poster she hadn’t seen before. A couple steps in and some ink sloshed over her boots with a metal sound of gradient beneath her. This new poster didn’t have the company mascot, or his dog pal visualized prominently like most of the other posters. The angel wasn’t present either, but instead there were three prominent figures that had an heir of mischievousness about them. No smiles given from any of them and on the lower half of the poster **_The Butcher Gang_** read in that large thick font. 

Another few steps closer, the reader smirked, “So these were the villains of the series? The Butcher Gang? Makes ya wonder what they did, ha-ha."

In that moment, _in that actual fucking moment_ the center of the poster was shredded by a stump to where a hand should be. The leader of the gang in all his deformed glory screeched in a wheeze that was reminiscent of a balloon letting out air which was followed by an odd cackling sound that no human could ever replicate.

The reader inhaled her gum in a jolt of panic and the back of her heel was caught on the metal wiring below her which rung out when her ass collided with it. Hissing at the pain of her tumble, the creature before her continued to cackle then met a similar fate face-planting on the same wiring. Yeah piss off, she snorted.

Only for him to jump back up again, wrench in hand and mouth permanently agape. He took a hop forward deciding against using its actual foot and favored the plunger so eloquently attached to wear another leg should be. The reader still in a backwards-crawling position turned and threw a hand behind herself to find that she had completely misplaced her axe.

Fuck, she was fucked.

“Oh God I’m fucked.”

This creature continued to cackle as if to tell her the same as she backwards-crawled herself out of it’s way as it leered in closer, unknowing when it was going to strike. She could see the hollow of its mouth barely, its only unsewn eye completely black. Finally, close enough to strike, its only gloved hand clenching a wrench had began to raise and before it was brought down on the prey before him-

“Do not.” her hand had grabbed the wrench and yanked but he didn’t let up on his grip. This had caused him to pause his movement though. At sitting height, she was tall enough to reach for his weapon. He couldn’t have only been three and a half feet tall, but apparently that meant nothing when it came to strength as her grip was beginning to wane as he finally tugged back. “Don’t fucking hit me please.”

 _“Hit me!”_ it wheezed back.

“wuhh..?” This creature was officially going ape-shit.

“Hit me!” then a cackle as it successfully regained the wrench after a particularly sharp tug. The sharp tug sent him flying back in retaliation which caused him to fall back. This gave the reader just enough time to make a mad dash to where she assumed her lost axe was.

Only to topple over a cardboard cutout on her way down the hall, busting her knee. She didn’t have to look back to know the mutilated gang boss had recovered and bounced its way toward her. “Fuck you Bendy” she spat at the cardboard demon cutout. Her pantyhose had ripped, and a seam had ran up to her crotch region which promptly shown bits of her skin and that she didn’t wear underwear underneath.

One of her hands reached to pull her skirt back down but was interrupted by a plunger plopping down in her field of vision. Her hands raised to her face in an attempt to protect herself but was knocked into a stupor once metal collided with her head.

* * *


	2. Fucked then punked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smut chapter

When her eyes had finally opened, she took note at the change of scenery. No longer in a hallway, but a dark open area on an old moth-eaten mattress heavy with dust and had more black stains than there were spots of beige.

There were lamps here and there, all dim or flickering. Many light bulbs already dead and covered in a thick layer of dust. A few articles of clothing were strewn and there were pages upon pages of indecipherable finger paintings and attempts at a written language all taped to walls or on the floor near a wall. One she could barely read spelled “EDGR” with a picture of a ball and six lines coming from said ball.

Not the worst place I’ve seen on TLC, she thought and laid her head back down on the heavily stained bed

Only to sit back up again to the sound of a can dropping and scuttering near the bed. Then a groan with that familiar inhuman chattering noise.

Her eyes met the familiar one from the misfit-toy of a cartoon that she attempted to escape from prior to her passing out. Its one hand was clutching a cup of an unknown substance. She assumed that the can of what she is now picking up to be antique soup was dropped from under the creatures’ arm and kicked over.

When it’s not attacking her, the darn thing was a heartbreaking sight. It looked like the idea of a cartoon but put together with literally whatever was not needed. Much like when a children’s toy is destroyed but the only available fabric laying around are old socks.

Finally, it seemed to take notice to her long stare, only to freeze. It had originally hobbled towards her attempting to not spill whatever was in the cup but was obviously having trouble from how it was dripping. It looked around half empty, poor thing probably took too many tumbles to get back here.

There was a frightened look on its(his?) face. He trembled oh so gently under the girls’ long gaze which is odd because he was the one who knocked her out. Why should he be scared? How did she even get here? He didn’t look so dangerous when there was no wrench in sight.

Soup in hand, her legs swung down from the bed and she stood up. The toon stood his ground but the cup in hand looked ready to slip so she finally spoke up.

“Did you bring me here?” There was no response. Thinking back to her previous encounter she remembered something.

“You spoke before, right? I think you can talk.” Some chattering was exchanged, but not much. Looking to the soup in hand, she raised it up before the toon.

“Was this meant for me?” The toon nodded, albeit in one head bob. Finally, some back-and-forth. Talking to nobody the entire time she was here made her uneasy. If the only dialogue came from this off-model creature before her, then so be it.

He had started to approach the bed again, but at a slower pace than what he had prior. The quiet plops of his plunger leg getting closer and closer to the bed. Finally in front of her, the hand holding the cup was finally outstretched and the deformed gang leader nodded again, urging her to take it. She waited a moment in confusion, why did he…

His hand pushed closer in her direction, he really wanted to give this cup to her after all the trouble it took to carry it here without spillage. She reached a hand outward and held it with both hands. Looking in the cup she found that it was just water and to her surprise, there weren’t any traces of ink inside.

She downed the cup and nearly choked on the liquid. She didn’t know when the last time she drank anything due to the prospect that every sink she passed either didn’t work or only shot out ink. This was the first thing she drank in a while; she was just so thirsty that she had forgotten how thirsty she was. How.. how did he know? Why did he care? For what reason did this toon that previously tried to kill her give her a can of soup and _water_ of all things. Why didn’t it give her uh, **_death?_**

Her cup was now empty, and she wiped away any remnants of water left on her lips. Glancing over to the creature who had watched her during the entire process, a quick “thank you so much” was given and he nodded back. The sides of his permanently agape mouth had turned slightly up as if it had smiled at her. She had to wonder though..

“Why didn’t you kill me?” An assortment of chortles in response and finally a voice;

_“…nNnot. hHhh hitt..ba..ack...”_ Not hit back..

“You didn’t kill me because I didn’t hit you back? Then why did you attack me?” he in turn responded.

_“s..sca..rre..dd…”_ This guy was just scared. She didn’t blame him.

“I hear ya man, it’s amazing you can even live through this.” He grunted and grumbled in response, but she couldn’t quite catch it. Moments passed and no further dialogue was given. The reader straightened her skirt but was irritated at the tear running up her pantyhose. Though she couldn’t be too mad, it was bound to happen in a place like this. The deformed gang member wandered out of the room some time ago and that allowed her time to do some snooping. Dusty cabinets lined up near where she was sitting looked promising, what could be found inside?

She started with the one that had held a stack of papers, some antique newspapers, some drawings done by some of the professional artists whom worked here. There were many of Bendy, some of the dog character; Boris, and one of Alice Angel who appeared to be synonymous with her namesake. Rummaging through the drawers, she found plenty more cans of similarly branded soup. All the other drawers shown the same, soup and more soup. He had certainly stocked up

Looking to the next cabinet, there looked to be only three pieces of paper on this one. A closer viewing provided her with answers to questions she didn’t realize she had. Each sheet of paper had shown the contents of what she assumed to be concept art or references of each member of The Butcher Gang. The name _**“Barley”**_ shown repeatedly throughout this first page which depicted a frowning male sailor with a pipe, hat and beard. Sketches of him in situations of boredom, grinning somewhat aggressively and him with a fishing line were the bigger images displayed. _“Barley wears eyepatch on right eye”_ or _“Barley is never to be shorter than Edgar”_ were written underneath several sketches of the pirate sailor hybrid. _“Tough but slow-witted”_ under a drawing of him frowning while grinding a broom into the ground.

Another sheet had shown the toon she personally met, yet more complete. The name **_“Charley”_ **under a larger drawing of a cartoon with ape-like overtones complete with large round ears and a black nose. He dawned a vest, tailcoat and a thin beard that bled into sideburns. There are many depictions of his characters expressions, most had him bored while others had him worn-out or shocked. One had shown him with a mouth-open grin showing pointed teeth. _“Charley doesn’t cry”_ or _“Charley is never to be shown bubbly”_ written underneath a few drawings of him awkwardly in said expressions. One last note in big underlined lettering said _“Charley is not a chimp!”_

He totally is.

She lifted the last page only to see an adorable cartoon spider that looked way less threatening than the poster depicted it. His name; **Edgar** , underneath the largest drawing on the paper. She had seen this on the sailor’s reference sheet. He had six legs as opposed to the eight usual arachnids had, perhaps this was due to the logic of the other cartoons only having four fingers? There were hardly many antagonistic expressions seen from th-

And the paper in her hand vanished. How odd.

The sound of familiar inhumane babbles echoed in the room.

“Oh hey you’re back, I was j-“ A fist collided with her cheek, causing her to shriek and tumble to the floor.

_“Ack!”_

Cupping her cheek in pain, she was met face to face with another toon. This one was supposed to be Edgar, the one she was just reading about. He had hands though, and a set of teeth chattering away on top of his head. His one cartoon eye was downcast in an angry expression and his other eye; a human eye, looked like it had seen better days.

Clutching the piece of paper she was holding prior, the toon took a step forward only to halt at the sound of the similarly sounding toon that she had spoken to. Charley had returned, it would seem that he was alerted by the sound of the girl getting her face full of glove, or perhaps the scream.

Most likely the ladder.

They seemed to have an argument of sorts. Most of what was said was unintelligible, tons of babbling back and forth but the words _“don’t”_ and _“no”_ stood out. This seemed to have put the deformed arachnid at ease, and he turned back to the girl to lay the sheet of paper back on the desk. One gloved palm came close to her face startling her, only to have it haphazardly pat her? On the head?

How quaint.

Anyway, the spider toon seemed to be docile now. Standing to her feet it was brought to her attention that he was only about above-the-knee height as opposed to Charley’s thigh height. He was kind of cute in the “accidentally-put-my-toy-in-the-blender” way.

Clearing her throat, she said “You must be Edgar, yes?” This made the spider nod his head rapidly and chirp while pointing towards himself. He liked that.

“And you must be Charley, right?” She pointed a finger to the monkey-based toon. Said toon let out a _“y..Aa..”_ with the corners of his mouth raising. A hand came to her face so that she’d do the classical “thinking expression” only to hiss at the pain of her cheek, it’s probably already settling on a bruise

“Got a good arm on ya man, really clocked me good.” She said, rubbing the pained side of her face while looking at the inky arachnid. Edgar tilted his head and froze at the raised rasped tone of his superior. The deformed Charley shook his one fist at the spider babbling out a string of quick incomprehensible words all to the spiders’ dismay. The girl couldn’t understand a word of what was said but if she could guess he probably said _“Why’d ya have to go and do something like that?!”_ An inky glove rested on the spiders stitched lips and a sheepish expression was barely visible.

She laughed off the bickering and waved a loose wrist.

“I’m fine guys, really.” Then she proceeded to head over to the bed where the can of soup was. Picking it up, she placed it over her red cheek and hummed at the cool feeling. Eyes of both toons followed her, although probably more from Edgar seeing as how he’s the one with actual eyes instead of holes or stitched optics.

Edgar scurrying over to her side on the bed, one of his many hands had been placed over the hand she had cradling the can to her face. He was asking a silent question with a tilted head and a finger pointed to his face. _Why was she putting soup on her face?_

Catching onto his act of charades, she pointed at her cheese and said “Oh this? It’s to keep the area cold.” A little more head tilting came from the spider. _Why would she need to keep her wound cold?_

Snickering and placing the can down, she gestured with her hand to her face and spoke about how blood is hot and it’s rushing to her battered cheek and that she’s trying to keep the swelling down by placing something cold over it.

Not quite nodding in understanding, but the message had become clearer. He noticed that when he placed his hand over hers, there was an almost sharp temperature difference. It became clearer to him that her insides were warm and his were cold due to the ink. With that thought, an idea came to mind.

Snatching the can away, (“hey!”) he had placed his colder hand on her cheek and marveled at the heat she produced. At first the action startled her, but she found that she preferred the cooling embrace of this toons hand. A plopping was heard, and the other toon sat on her other side watching with curiosity.

He didn’t understand what Edgar was doing and went in to touch the other cheek. The warmth was immediate, and he leaned in closer to her side. This felt so much better than standing next to blazing trash fires. She felt so warm to the touch that he nearly groaned when one of her arms wrapped around his form, closing him in to where his head rested close to her soft breast.

The spider toon looked to where Charley was and finally took his palm off her face. At this point her cheek had felt better and whatever apology the spider was trying to make had been accepted. Two of the arachnid’s long arms wrapped around her to cash in on the much-needed warmth, which she chucked at. She thought this behavior was sweet coming from both toons. To think they both attacked her and are now snuggling up to her sides on the bed.

A wondering hand coming from the ape-themed toon was felt going up into the inside of her sweater which she presumed to be his way of getting more heat. There wasn’t much thought of this action until the spider toon very clearly lifted her sweater and quickly threw himself inside in one swift motion. About to jump up from the sensation, Charley had already situated himself on her lap causing her to flop back-first on the mattress. They were both still cold and this was their way of trying to huddle in closer for warmth.

The stump of a hand had reached from underneath her bra and flipped it up to show off two bouncing breasts. She didn’t quite scream, but she squirmed and quietly whimpered at cool feeling of the one-handed toon laying his face flat in-between her plump chest. His cold breath inflicted her with goosebumps.

It didn’t feel like she was in any immediate danger from the two, however she did feel somewhat threatened as the spider toon tightened his hold on her wrists while still being mostly nestled inside the sweater. His lower hand had reached around to pinch at the clasp of her bra, having it pop off after a few tries. His body mostly behind her now while two hands holding her wrists to prevent her from moving and four others groping at her skin and her breasts.

It wasn’t that she was totally immobile, her legs still had leniency albeit between the leg and plunger of the open-mouthed toon above her. Said open-mouthed toon seemed to be breathing heavily on one breast in particular which caused her spine to tingle. No, she could move, but she didn’t entirely want to hurt the toons she thought she had befriended. There was very little company here and she almost felt desperate to have somebody to speak to. Could there still be a chance for her to stop this? She could try…

“..H-hey? Uh.” Neither toon nudged from their spots on her body.

“Do you have to-“The spider toon popped his own head into the turtleneck and purred near her neck. He could now see her face again and it looked like through his stitched lips, he smiled.

“See now that’s adorable but listen-“ Charley had gripped one hand over her right breast and glided a thumb over a hardened nipple which made her unexpectantly moan. Edgar’s head-mouth garbled something for a moment, he looked seemingly wide-eyed at the noise she made and signaled for his superior to do it again. The chimp-toon obliged forcing another groan from her throat.

What the hell is even happening?

Edgar looked down to his free hands that wasn’t currently holding onto the girl’s wrists and palmed at one of her breasts, roughly rubbing a thumb over her stiff nipples. An assortment of gurgled tones escaped from her lips to which both gang members chuckled at. She was seemingly lost in the sensations of thumbs rubbing against her swollen peaks that she was distracted by the bearded toon reaching a gloved hand under her skirt and gazing down to the hole in the pantyhose. He could easily see her through the sheer fabric and rubbed his stumped wrist across her mostly covered mound. Her toes had curled from inside her shoes and she unexpectantly rocked against the added pressure on her lower regions.

_”why…?”_ she choked out before a pair of sewn lips invaded her vision which had then crashed into hers. The ripple of string between his lips against hers, it had almost felt like a tongue was trying to reach in from inside. Her eyes were half lidded to the continued torture that the two gangers put her through. This didn’t feel real..

Thoughts of going back home to her cat had come up in her mind as the chimp toon between her thighs began pulling the ruined fabric away, leaving just her skirt on and nothing underneath. A teasing finger had brushed against her moistened outer lips. Her eyes were now completely shut, and she allowed herself to be a victim to the sensations around her. If she had no choice in the matter, then what is she to do other than ride it out?

A hand had squeezed her one of her thighs to get her attention.

When she wasn’t busy lip-locking with the head-chattering spider, her eyes widened at the agape gang leader between her thighs now dipping a finger between her now throbbing lower lips, circling around the hole and accumulating any moisture to his gloved finger. He then thumbed at her swollen clit causing the girl the nearly turn into a puddle of moans and heavy breaths.

She didn’t realize how heavy her breathing has gotten since all of this started.

The spider on her back continuing to flip her nipple up and down his thumb and circled it while occasionally pressing in, squeezing. Her mouth was entirely agape and cooing out to each pressure that was added in this hot dense mixture.

Skin across her nose and cheeks had become red to which the spider responded by pressing his cool tempered face against hers. This feeling of hot against cold allowed her to catch her breath and seemingly sober her to the onslaught of Charley now plugging a finger into her seeping cunt.

_“nnng..”_

She couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed by the sounds of sloshing down in front of her. A hand from Edgar had let go of her sore breast and lowered down to rest on the top of her mound and he laid an index finger over the forgotten nub below. This in mixture with the abuse of Charley now using two thick fingers to thread her insides with had almost sent her over the edge. Toon between her legs leaned up to her breast and engulfed his mouth over it, letting his cold tongue run up and down her peak. All these feelings coupled together had left her mewling and thrashing but was unable to because of her arms still being tightly clenched. Her toes continued to curl in her shoes and her thighs had already tightened around the toon situated there, to which he remained unbothered by.

_“Oh god..”_

The crawling feeling of her pleasure spiking had sent her wailing, echoing in the small space of the room. Charley had lifted his head from her now moist breast and both Edgar and his fingers came to a standstill.

Thighs had shaken and a look of smugness had been shared between the too toons. They knew what they did. Both laughing mischievously at the girl still in the spiders embrace, she had felt like she had truly met the Butcher Gang in their former glory. All that sweetness from before had probably been a show to cover their real intentions.

She was impressed at their tenacity to carry this plan out. 

Groaning at the feeling of the leader of the gang sliding his wet fingers out, he popped them in his mouth and walked off with a cup under his arm that had been by the mattress. The spider choosing to continue his embrace because he truly enjoyed how warm she felt. His head continuing to stretch out the collar of her turtleneck just to be “neck-in-neck” so to speak. She eyed him with a blank expression one might see in an episode of _The Office_ and he smiled and laughed it off.

The sly bastards.

While she was busy pouting, the still-smug gang leader had returned with a filled cup of water. He didn’t even have any trouble transporting it over to her. Had that been an act as well?

Actual bastards.

She grabbed the cup from Charley and downed the cup much like in the manner she had earlier. There was no helping her pout though, to which toons reveled in. Then there was a clanking sound by the door.

_“Yar ye pirates cold.”_

At the door, the third and final member of the Butcher Gang stood, in all his mutated glory. Both toons shared a knowing look, then to the girl still being held by Edgar. Her eyes shot to both men and to the cartoon pirate at the door and gulped.

“I’m so fucked..”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll write more later (snores)


End file.
